“Idiots like Piper and Missy seek you out at the same time they ostracize you because you scare them. They don’t know what to do with someone like you. Someone attractive and bright and completely uninterested in their games. Someone that they sense is different and special, but they don’t know in what way.”
I was genuinely shocked. “Come on, Michael. I already like you; you don’t have to flatter me. I am not different and special.” My parents had worked long and hard to make me feel smart and important and loved, but at the same time, were always careful to remind me that I was just a regular girl, just like everyone else. With responsibilities to other people and the planet.
“If only you could see how beautiful and unique you real y are,” Michael said, and leaned in to kiss me.
The howl of the wind and the increasing chil receded as I lost myself to him. He wrapped himself around me and kissed me with rapidly growing intensity. Just like when we were in the gym and his car, I could only see and think and feel Michael.
Gently, so gently, he pressed me back into the sand. His kisses grew more insistent, and I enjoyed his mounting excitement. In a familiar motion, he parted my lips and ran his tongue along my tongue. He swept his tongue back into his own mouth and ran it along his own teeth, and I then felt his tongue lightly touch my own.
A metal ic taste flooded my mouth. Michael had caused the slightest drop of his blood to drip onto my tongue. The sand and the wind and the cove disappeared, and I experienced a powerful flash—much stronger than I’d ever experienced before. I saw myself on that first day of school, walking down the hal way with Ruth after the episode with her and Missy. I watched as I whipped my head in Michael’s direction, and I couldn’t believe how I appeared. My pale skin and eyes looked striking against the sleek blackness of my hair, and my long, lithe body was outlined in a glowing light. As seen through Michael’s eyes, I was indeed beautiful, almost ethereal y so.
Just then, the upper school hal way faded, and I saw another, more disconcerting image of myself. I watched as I elevated to Michael’s second-floor bedroom window and stretched out my hand in an invitation to flight. It was a scene from my dream.
I drew back from Michael’s kiss, and the image disappeared. Pushing myself up from the sand, I asked, “What was that? How did you know—”
“How did I know that you saw images like that? That you get insights into other people’s thoughts and feelings and baggage?”
“Yes.” I could barely breathe.
“How did I know that you dream of flying? And that, last night, you flew by my bedroom window in your dream?”
“Yes.”
“El ie, I told you that you are different. We are different. And that difference means we are meant for each other.”
Chapter Eleven
Different—what did Michael mean by different? I was too freaked out to ask. I was also too terrified—of him, the images, even myself—to stand there next to him on that remote beach as darkness fel around us. I felt betrayed, too. Had he orchestrated the whole reconciliation just so he could bring me here and frighten me? And how did he know about my flashes? About my dreams? Something was off. I backed away from him and headed toward the rocky pathway leading to the road.
Michael hurried after me. “I’m sorry, El ie. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I turned around and said, “Wel , you did.” Then I kept moving up the path.
I felt his hand as he reached out for me. “Come on, let me help you back up the trail.”
Keeping my hands glued to my sides and marching forward, I said, “No thanks, you’ve ‘helped’ enough. I’l make my own way.” I didn’t want him touching me just then. What if he could transmit more of his thoughts and images to me—or, worse, obtain more of my thoughts and images?
The sun had almost sunk beneath the horizon, and the pathway was getting real y hard to see. I trudged ahead as if I knew what I was doing—and where I was going. As I made my way along the narrow path, I heard some rocks slide down the steep cliff face. The sound startled me, and I lost my confidence and my footing. I started to slip, and Michael grabbed me just in time.
I sat for a moment to catch my breath. Since I didn’t experience any weird flashes as he pul ed me up, I figured that I should accept his help the rest of the way. I walked with his hand on my arm until we final y reached the peak. There, I tried to shake off his hand so I could walk to the car on my own. But he held tight.
“El ie, look at me.”
I didn’t want to look at him. As we had hiked up that treacherous path, I had thought about what had passed between us. Whether or not the sensations were real—and I wasn’t ready to tackle that just yet—I was furious. How dare he bring me to such an isolated, even dangerous, spot to inflict al this on me? And I didn’t want my anger to soften when I looked into his eyes, which I suspected it might.
“Please, El ie.”
I kept my gaze fixed on the ground. “Why should I, Michael? You dragged me out here to this remote beach to scare me with some kind of game.”
“Game?”
“Yes.”
“You think that the images I shared with you were some kind of game?” He sounded shocked, even a little mad. I didn’t dare look at his face.
“Yes.” In truth, I wasn’t sure. I’d experienced enough flashes, visions, or whatever you wanted to cal them, of my own to suspect that they might be real. But I didn’t want to admit it out loud to him—because then I’d have to face it. And I desperately wanted to be regular, like my parents had always told me I was. I’d never had any trouble thinking of myself that way until right now. I did not want to be different, especial y not in this weird way.
